Skav Art

Welcome to Skav Art! A gallery blog of all the little pictures I draw from my imagination using the most basic of art equipment that I scrounge, or buy cheaply. Think of it more as "Advanced Doodling" or "Finished Thumbnail Sketching" and you'll have pretty much sussed it.

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Tuesday, 16 December 2014

The original artwork for this doesn't have the text printed on it. I wouldn't do that for any skav art piece. I usually prefer to write my own text by hand. I only used it here so that I could print it as a Christmas card to send out to people. I have to admit that I was actually pleased with how crudely letterpress they looked, which I though was very in-keeping with skav art. But that might have more to do with the crappy printer I have and the cheap printer ink that I use for it. So if you've received one of these cards from someone, then I hope you liked it and the following seasonal tale contained within....

THE SANTA CLAUSE

I looked on in horror from my bedroom window at the events that were unfolding that night, scarcely believing what I was seeing. I was only six years old at the time, but I remember it very vividly.

"But I was only a child!" pleaded Carrol, as he knelt in the snow, surrounded by Santa and his four elves. "How can I be blamed for something I did as a child?"

"When any child writes a letter to me they enter into a binding contract. I kept my side of the deal by gifting you your train set. You failed to keep your side," Santa explained. "I was very dubious at first, when I received your letter. You weren't exactly the nicest of children, were you?"

"You were a right little bastard!" added Noodles the elf, waving his switch-blade, menacingly, in front of Carrol's face.

"However," Santa continued. "I was prepared to give you a chance of redemption, seeing that you'd promised to be a "very good boy" in your letter." Santa nodded at the elf Flipz, dressed in a bowler hat and fur coat, who took out an old piece of paper with crude crayon writing on it. He showed it to Carrol. It clearly said on it that he'd be a "verry good boy" and it was signed by him when he was 7 and a quarter years old. He was now thirty-nine.

"But you weren't a good boy, were you Danny?" sneered Flipz, putting the evidence back in his pocket. "The little shit that you were, grew up into the big, diarrhoetic shit-stain you are now."

"No, no, I've led a good life!" Carrol protested.

"Bollocks!" blurted out Hudz, who was the elf dressed in a hood and goggles. "You became an estate agent, which was bad enough, but then you became a fucking politician."

"A fucking politician!" Noodles repeated in disgust. "A cunt by another name!" I remembered that they'd been quite colourful with their language, these elves, but Santa seemed quite relaxed about it. I supposed it was probably because his little helpers did work hard, so Santa gave them quite a bit of freedom in what they said, did and dressed like. Sort of like midget dockers.

"Please!" Carrol begged. "I promise I'll be good from now on. I promise." Then he just broke down and wept in front of them. They had no sympathy for him. "You spineless streak of jizz!" said Hudz. "At least take it like a man."

"Try to see it from our point of view, Danny," said Santa. "Take poor Twinkles here." He pointed to an elf dressed in a bobble hat and scarf, which covered half of his face. This elf had been quiet throughout all of this and was a little embarrassed that he was now the focus of attention. "For months, he worked night and day on your train set. He built each and every intricate part of it with his own hands, so that you could have a fully working scale engine with realistic steam and engine sounds. I doubt you even appreciated the weathering on the tracks, or the ornate station and model passengers. All hand-painted by him." He laid a hand on the bowed head of Twinkles, who seemed to shed a sorrowful tear. "He was utterly devastated by what you did with it."

"You swapped it for a cheap, shitty bike!" growled Flipz. That caused Twinkles to totally lose it and he sprang at Carrol, punching and kicking him in a mad, vengeful frenzy. I couldn't quite hear what he was shouting as it was mostly muffled by his scarf, but I did catch words like "twatshite, shit-fucker" and "cuntoid" in amongst it all. Hudz and Flipz managed to drag him off and calm him down.

"Just look what you've done to him," Noodles said to Carrol. "He's a top elf is Twinkles, all the other elves like him. He'll do anything for anyone. You're off the fucking cuntometer, you are," and with that he sliced the side of Carrol's face with his blade.

"I think we need say little more," Santa began to conclude. He then took out a huge handgun from his cloak and pointed it at Carrol, who was still pleading for his life. "Merry Christmas, Danny Carrol." Then he pulled the trigger. At point blank range like that, the bullet practically blew the back of Carrol's head off, causing a disturbing spray pattern in the snow behind him. The elves danced and cackled with glee at the spectacle, then turned to head back to their sleigh. Twinkles held back a while and looked down triumphantly at the body. He then pulled down his scarf and spat at it. I mean, it wasn't just an ordinary casual spit. He took the time to growl up a green one before gobbing it out onto the lifeless corpse. Then he scampered after the others. They got onto the reindeer driven sleigh and all at once it leapt into the night sky from where it came. As I watched it, I saw them all turn to me and wave me goodbye. It was at that point that I wet myself.

All that had happened thirty years ago. I was grown up now, with my own family and kids. Today, before they went to school, my son and daughter showed me the letters they'd written to Santa, which they were about to post. My reaction to it was something they didn't expect.

"No!" I said, grabbing the letters from them and tearing them up. "Never write to Santa! Never, ever, ever!" Both my wife and kids must have thought I'd suddenly gone mad, especially when I then began to eat the pieces of the letters to make sure. My kids started crying and I could see the burning rage in my wife's eyes as I did this. She managed to calm them down as I chewed on the paper and took them to school. I knew that when she came back, she'd kick the living shit out of me for doing that, but I did what I had to do.

Thursday, 13 November 2014

The epiphany of man will be when the last person finally decides to let go of their teddy bear, leaving it to fall, torn and ragged, back into the shadows of superstition from where it was born. A fool's folly, created out of ignorance and fear, will be uncreated under the burning light of knowledge and reason.

Then, and only then, will there dawn the golden age of mankind. When humanity finally arms itself with it's true, unshakable faith. That it is they, and they alone, who are the true gods of their own destiny.﻿

Wednesday, 12 June 2013

"He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something that was telling him that his appeal had not gone at all well."

A simple cartoon image that shows both despair and complete resignation to an inevitable fate. When you know, no matter what you do, there's just no avoiding it. It also has the obvious reference to marriage with the "ball and chain" symbolism.

Thursday, 9 May 2013

The disturbing obsession that the Joker has for Batman always seems to end with him being hurt, one way or another. But, being so criminally insane as he is, he'll always try again and again, because that's the way he does it.

Thursday, 24 January 2013

It's not easy trying to find a nude paint-by-numbers set, especially one happily stroking her pussy! They tend to be the "chocolate-box" style image, which is never fun to paint, but at least they got more people painting and introduced many to art.

It's used here to make the viewer think more about colour, even though there's none present, not even a swatch to match the numbers with. It tries to beg the question: "What colour is her skin?" And when this happens, it begins to give the subject something of an enigmatic quality.

But many who see it will have already made their own assumptions as to her colour, for whatever reason that might be. They may even assume it so much that they'll go so far as to disregard it completely and ask: "What colour is the cat?"﻿

Friday, 2 November 2012

With the introduction of total immersion virtual reality will come a secondary option for the suicidal. Rather than killing themselves, they may choose to commit "verecide" (can also be spelt as "vericide") and kill their own reality instead. Thus exchanging their miserable lives in the real world in favour of their own personal heaven in a booby-trapped virtual one.

Sunday, 30 September 2012

Burning has always been a favourite pastime of the would-be blasphemer and so I thought it would be best to represent it here on this final piece in the project.

The reason why I chose The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy for this project was because it tells the story of two men who bounce around the galaxy, getting into one extreme situation after another, whilst relying on a guidebook that's completely useless to them.﻿

Thursday, 27 September 2012

I chose The Lord of the Rings because it's THE template fantasy novel that is constantly referenced, borrowed from and blatantly plagiarised by other writers, film and game makers. It's a book which is responsible for giving birth to the whole fantasy genre that we see today.

Sunday, 23 September 2012

I had thought of including a few used hypodermic needles in this image to add to the squaller of it, but a used condom pretty much does it on it's own. You could be in the most idyllic place in the world, happy and content with where you are for that moment, but as soon as you see a used condom on the ground, or floating past in a stream, then it all suddenly changes for the worst. It's the kind of cruel reality-slap that many people hate and which makes their blood boil for the disregard they perceive in others.

And the reason why I've used it here.

I could've gone for any of the Discworld books for this piece, as it's the idea of the Discworld itself that's being focused on here. A strange world that rests on the back of four elephants, who in turn, stand on the back of a great turtle flying through space, and is populated by equally strange characters. Yet it's a world many wish could exist just because it's so unusual. Probably one of the reasons why the Discworld books are so popular.

Wednesday, 19 September 2012

﻿For this second image, I decided on the use of profanity, which is a common weapon for blasphemy. In this case, instead of just scrawling the words on, I chose to write each word down as an individual font that I made up. It's inspired by the old Letraset catalogues that I remember from college, which were once an essential purchase for all graphic design students and studios. The names of the fonts would be indexed in the catalogue in their own typeface, or bunched together as they are here in some design image.

Most of these swear-words are quite common. There's probably more I could've added, but I didn't want to cover the entire page in them. I've added words like clitconker, necrofelch, wankpiss and twatshite (have some fun by trying to work out what those words mean!) I've also re-introduced the word fadge as well, because nobody says it now, and it's such a good swear-word to use.

This example of the Narnia books was used here mainly because they're generally regarded as fairy tales. It may have been better to have gone for The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, but that would've been too obvious and would've focused on that one book alone, when it was the Narnia series as a whole that I was aiming at, so I chose Prince Caspian instead. Although, the story within this book of a magical land deciding to stick to it's old ways rather than that of the Telmarines, driving them back out to where they came from, is much more apt.